


Needs

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Hypersexual Stiles, Hypersexuality, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 23:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This could be triggering for people who suffer from hypersexuality.





	Needs

**Author's Note:**

> This could be triggering for people who suffer from hypersexuality.

Cold beads of chilled sweat sit idly on Stiles’ flat stomach. His skin is red, mottled with lash marks and bruises. His shoulders feel stiff and the muscle that surrounds them burns from the strange position they’ve been resting in. It hurts but not as bad as his ass does, aching from such little prep in a way he knows won’t go away for days. Now that it’s over, it doesn’t feel good anymore. He wants to leave. 

He gets back to his house at four in the morning. His dad isn’t there, of course. Why would he be? There’s no food in the cupboards because he didn’t have time to go shopping today - he was too consumed with the need to get fucked, nothing else mattered back then. He regrets it now with his stomach rumbling and churning - but then, Stiles regrets a lot of things. 

There’s still cum dripping out of his ass. The guy he let fuck him tonight didn’t wear a condom and Stiles didn’t want him to. He’ll go to the doctor and get checked out sometime this week. Probably. He might be fucked in the head but he doesn’t want to get sick. At least, he doesn't think he does. Everything’s really confusing. He showers. 

It’s four thirty by the time he climbs out with the majority of the cum washed down the drain. The water pressure made his injuries hurt even more and now he feels wrung out and exhausted. He wants to cry but he has so little energy left he doesn’t think he can. He just feels hollow, like there’s nothing left inside him, no part of himself remains. He thinks maybe that’s a good thing. 

Stiles’ mattress is comfortable but his sheets are scratchy. He’s had them for a while now but they’ve never softened with age. He should probably buy someone new ones, he thinks, and curls onto his side to stop the pain in his ass from pulsing like an alarm that’s about to go off. He checked for bleeding in the shower but he couldn’t find anything. No tearing then, with luck. Still, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to shove anything up there for a while which is going to be a real problem. He’s sure he’ll be in tears about it tomorrow. 

It isn’t long before Stiles heard his window slide open. He doesn’t look over his shoulder, just lays there with his back turned while Derek takes off his boots, jacket and jeans and climbs onto the bed. He slips into the sheets and comes up behind Stiles and spoons into him. Stiles winces from the pain in his ass and Derek places his open palm across Stiles’ bare stomach. The pain begins to drain and for the first time since he came earlier that night, Stiles feels some relief. 

Derek’s an asshole; he’s rude and closed off and even more aggressive now that he has his alpha power. And yet, despite that, even with Stiles laying there naked and open and vulnerable, he won’t take advantage. 

“I’m disgusting,” Stiles whispers out into the silent room. 

He can feel Derek shake his head behind him, then bury his nose in Stiles’ still damp hair, “You’re not, Stiles. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

There’s a sincerity in Derek’s voice and Stiles so wants to believe him. It would be nice to. He imagines how good it would feel to let himself believe. He huffs and closes his eyes. He doesn’t believe him, doesn’t believe a word he says about Stiles’ problem - about his sickness. Stiles is fucked up, he’s built wrong. He’s only sixteen yet every fibre of his being screams for sex. Sometimes he thinks sex is the only constant in his life. His mother is gone, his father is going, he’s lost what few friends he had and now all he has left is this. This aching, begging need to fuck, to hurt, to fulfil his twisted needs, to know exactly what a dirty, sick bastard he is. But it doesn’t matter that Derek’s lying about him not being disgusting. It doesn’t matter that he’s lying about there being nothing wrong with Stiles. He stops the pain, makes Stiles feel better. And right now, that’s all he needs. 


End file.
